


from dust, arisen

by iamfitzwilliamdarcy



Series: from dust, arisen [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Jason Never Dies AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-03 18:57:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19470103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamfitzwilliamdarcy/pseuds/iamfitzwilliamdarcy
Summary: When Jason is fifteen, he almost dies. Now, he grapples with the life he still has. (Jason Lives AU)





	from dust, arisen

**Author's Note:**

> I...got tired of opening this periodically from my incomplete Google docs over the past two years so...here we go. Will (maybe, hopefully) turn into a series of vignettes. Timeline is intended to make as much sense as possible but...comics.

When Jason is fifteen, he almost dies. It takes half a year to recover fully, his breath rattling against broken ribs and raw throat. He was protected, mostly, from the blast and has only minor burns, but his right arm is broken and so is his left leg, his shoulder dislocated, he needs stitches in multiple places, and he’s covered in bruises. He has a concussion, too, but he’s alive, and he almost wasn’t.

He’s confined to his bed for weeks. Bruce and Alfred hover. Dick’s there sometimes too. He feels suffocated, near the end, but mostly he’s too exhausted to care.

When he starts getting bored and antsy, Dick brings over video games and movies and little 5lb weights.

“I can only use my one arm,” Jason tells him mournfully. “The right one is already smaller. I can feel it.”

Dick makes a face at him as he wiggles the fingers on his left hand. Says, “Well it’ll just have some catching up to do when you get that cast off.”

“And 5lbs are for babies,” Jason adds.

“Guess you’re a baby,” Dick says and sticks his tongue out him.

Neither mention he’s still sore enough that he can’t lift even the 5lb weight for very long.

But he can handle a control with his cast, so Dick tosses him one and they race cars and beat up bad guys and aliens and shoot terrorists. Dick even, Jason swears to God, brings him over some dumb as shit Harvest Moon game.

“For when I’m not here,” Dick tells him. Because when he’s not here Jason reads a lot, but there’s only so much you can read, and he alternates between being restless, bored beyond imagining, and, well, kind of depressed. 

(Jason beats it and saves his damn stupid farm three times before his bed rest is over; his cows love him.)

Mostly Jason is just glad Dick isn’t looking at him like he might still drop dead at any minute, all furrowed eyebrows and blank faced like Bruce or downturned, concerned lips like Alfred. Dick laughs and jostles Jason’s shoulder, gentler than he would ordinarily, but at least he knows Jason isn’t going to fucking  _ break _ .

Jason gathers that Dick is staying at the Manor again but he’s still fighting with Bruce. They rarely visit Jason at the same time, and when one comes in, the other gets all tight and excuses himself after a few minutes. Jason suspects they’re fighting about him.

He doesn’t ask. Dick doesn’t say anything.

They don’t talk about what happened.

********

Jason begs Bruce to let him back in the field for a month. He gives it some time, after he’s up and about, goes to his physical therapy when his casts come off, but Bruce still says no. No. Flat. That’s it.

Jason trains harder. He  _ knows _ he’s not 100%. He knows he’s chubbier, slower, that he’s out of practice.

He knows Bruce doesn’t trust him anymore. Not after…

It only takes a month for him to get fed up with being left behind. He sits in the Cave as Batman leaves, pretending to look at the notes of the case Bruce has left him. A consolation prize, he rolls his eyes. Something shiny to distract him.

He waits a half an hour, and then gets ready. He realizes, quickly, that he doesn’t actually have a Robin suit anymore. He flinches, thinking about fabric being ripped from deep wounds, from its tattered remains Bruce didn’t know he’d seen.

He shakes his head and regroups. There’s always one of Dick’s old costumes. Jason’s…not sure he’ll fit in any. His weight has fluctuated so much over the past several months, as he weaned himself off pain meds, got his appetite back, sat around unable to do anything, threw himself back into his work-outs as soon as he could, got told off for working  _ too  _ hard when he was still in recovery.

Besides, Dick has always been slender. At fifteen, Jason isn’t done growing, but he’s already almost as tall as Dick and a little broader.

He could always go out in his civvies and a mask, but—

\--the Joker can’t take Robin from him.

Batman actually falters when he sees Robin. Almost gets hit in the jaw for it, but recovers in time to duck. Jason jumps. They’re only some low level thugs. Small fry. He could have been helping all along.

He tells Batman so. Batman just looks at him for a long time. Long enough Jason wants to fidget, but he doesn’t. He holds his head up, clenches his jaw. Defiant. He can wait out Bruce.

Batman turns and walks away. But he doesn’t tell Jason to go home. Jason follows.

He guesses it’s a start.

********

“He’s stuck in that moment where he almost didn’t get to you in time,” Dick tells him seriously.

He’s come to Dick’s apartment because Batman is suffocating him. He swoops in when Robin doesn’t need him to, nearly breaks the jaws of thugs who so much as say the wrong thing to Robin, follows him too closely. Jason’s going to go insane.

He’s turning sixteen tomorrow. He almost didn’t make it.

Dick shakes his head. “You know how he doesn’t let go of things. I think part of him is going to live in that moment forever.”

Jason’s learned about watershed events. He wonders if Ethiopia is theirs. His and Bruce’s.

“Why are you packing?” he asks abruptly, because he’s interrupted Dick. “Are you moving back home?”

Dick looks guilty, fiddles with the shirt he’s holding bunched up in his hands. “Not exactly. I’m going back to New York.”

To the Titans.

“Why?”

Dick shrugs. “It’s time,” he says. “And I’m failing anyway. Waste of time to stick it out.”

“You’re smart,” Jason snaps. “Fuck, Dick, you’re a detective. How are you failing?”

Dick gives Jason a look. A little surprised at his venom. Jason is too. Finally, he says, “Not all of us our cut out for the college life, kid. Maybe I’m squandering an opportunity I’m lucky to have. But I can’t sit in class all day and not focus on a case I’m working. Or fall asleep because I was out late the night before and was only able to half-ass my homework in an all-nighter.”

Jason doesn’t say anything, but he won’t look at Dick either.

Dick adds, “Anyway, Bruce is driving me crazy, too. Need some space.”

“You didn’t have to come back,” Jason says hotly. His face feels hot, too, and tight.

Dick reaches out and touches his shoulder. “You know,” he says, thoughtfully, when Jason looks up at him. “It’s not really the Titans if there isn’t a Robin on the team.”

********

Jason turns sixteen and Alfred bakes a cake and Dick comes over because he hasn’t left yet (because he maybe kind of sort of hasn’t told Bruce he’s dropping out yet either) and Bruce is looking at Jason in a way that he never has before (at least not where Jason can see) and Jason feels warm for the first time since Ethiopia.

********

He has to repeat tenth grade. Alfred suggests, gently, homeschooling for the year, but Jason’s missed enough time. 

********

“I didn’t die, Bruce!” They’re on opposite sides of the living room from each other and Jason is yelling, his fists clenched, his face splotchy red. They’ve been going at it for a while, the room hot and Jason hot, when he finally says it.

Bruce draws up short, and the room chills, and Jason suddenly feels deflated. He clenches his fists, adds quieter, “Stop acting like it.”

Jason doesn’t give him a chance to walk away first. He storms up the stairs to his room. He packs a backpack and leaves through the window. He takes the motorcycle and makes it to New York before morning.

Dick doesn’t ask, but his mouth tightens. He feeds Jason leftover pizza and lets him sleep in his bed. Jason snags a few hours, but he wakes to Dick’s hushed, tense voice speaking into a phone.

“No I don’t—obviously—well, I--,”

He gets up and pads over to where Dick’s hunched over on the couch, throws himself on the ground, leans back on his hands and looks up. Laughs a little to himself at  _ Bruce  _ being the one to do enough talking that Dick can barely get a word in edgewise.

Dick looks up and gives him a stressed little half smile. Mouths Bruce, as if Jason doesn’t know. Jason rolls his eyes to tell him obviously. Dick holds out the phone questioningly, and Jason shakes his head. He doesn’t feel as angry and restless as he did earlier, but he’s not ready to talk to Bruce just yet.

“Sorry, B, he’s still asleep. Yeah, we’ll just hit the City some tomorrow. He’s fine, I promise,” Dick sounds a little annoyed. “Go to bed, I’ll call later.”

Jason kicks Dick’s ankle in thanks and feels a little bad about how exhausted he looks. No one else is here, not even Kory, and Jason wonders if he really interrupted Dick in anything important. A local case or something.

Dick just raises his eyebrows at him. “You wanna talk about it?”

“Fuck, no,” Jason says because he knows Dick won’t reprimand him for his language, like Alfred. And also because he really, really doesn’t.

Dick shrugs. “I’m going to bed then,” he says. He stands up and stretches. Adds, “You should get some more sleep. I’ll take Kory’s room.”

Dick’s as good as his word to Bruce, and he takes Jason sightseeing in New York. They do the standard tourist things—see the Rockerfeller, the Plaza Hotel, the Brooklyn Bridge. They rent bikes and ride around Central Park. They sit on a bench and eat ice cream and look out at across the water at the Statue of Liberty.

(Jason turns down going to Ellis Island. He’s had enough family history to last a lifetime.)

Dick buys him bagels and pizza and soda and presses cash into the hands of the homeless they pass. He stops and talks sometimes, and Jason watches him. Envies how charming he is, how easy it all seems to come to him. Jason’s sixteen, and he’s not  _ uncool _ , but he’ll never be Dick Grayson.

They go out into the city that night, as Nightwing and Robin.

The New York skyline is different from Gotham. It’s not  _ their  _ city.

Jason goes back to the Tower early.

“So,” Dick says, mid-morning Sunday, over breakfast. Jason’s actually a little impressed with his scrambled eggs; they’re not Alfred level, but they’re pretty decent.

“So,” Jason says back because he feels like Dick is evaluating him. Searching him for something.

“So,” Dick repeats, rolling his eyes. “You can stay here as long as you want, you know--,”

“But,” Jason prompts.

“But,” Dick agrees, “I think you should give Bruce a call.”

“I’m gonna go back today,” Jason says. He pushes his empty plate away, runs a hand through his hair. “I just needed some space.”

Dick smiles sympathetically. “I get it,” he says, Jason tries not to let himself get pissed off because he knows Dick does, knows he and Bruce have spent too many years fighting for Dick to  _ not  _ get it but-

-but he didn’t almost die. Because he’s fucking  _ perfect _ . He didn’t screw up like Jason did. He doesn’t have Bruce breathing down his neck because he can’t trust him.

Jason doesn’t say any of that, but somehow, Dick reads it on his face. He leans forward and Jason resists the urge to lean back.

“Remember what I said before?” he asks. “About letting go?”

Jason nods. Dick’s not helping.

“Sometimes, and I know I’m a hypocrite for saying this, but sometimes, you do too.”

Jason gets home after Bruce has gone on patrol. He lets Alfred feed him dinner, does a few rounds with a punching bag, showers, and goes to sleep.

He wakes up in the dark, red numbers on his clock flashing 4am, a hand brushing the hair out of his face. He almost flinches away, but some part of his brain recognizes that it’s just Bruce and he relaxes.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Bruce says, his voice a rough whisper.

“’Sokay,” Jason says. He shifts, sits up a little, blinks blearily at Bruce.

The fight from Friday lays between them. Bruce doesn’t apologize, but he pulls Jason into a hug, holds him close.

Jason doesn’t apologize, but he snakes his arms around Bruce and squeezes back.

********

He notices the Drake kid tailing Batman and Robin, snapping pictures of them, before Bruce does. He doesn’t see the kid every night, but when he does, he makes sure to do an extra special kick or flip just right or pause a little longer. It’s not  _ posing  _ exactly, but it’s nice to be appreciated. (And Jason won’t lie, he likes the attention.)

Also he’s a little curious to see how long it’ll take Batman to notice. Wonders if he already does and is ignoring it for some reason. It’s not like the kid ever lingers for long or isn’t as sneaky as possible, but Batman is, well,  _ Batman _ .

Jason finally gets a chance to talk to him about a month after he first starts noticing him. Jason’s by himself because, after their fight, he and Bruce are trying this new thing where Bruce lets him go off solo. At least a little bit.

Because Jason’s sixteen now and not a kid and he’s not going to—

The kid is startled when Robin drops down in front of him. He stumbles and Jason has to reach out to keep him from falling.

“So what?” Jason asks. “Journalism class? You the next photographer for the Gazette?”

The kid flushes and says “Oh my God” and “I’m sorry” and “Do you think he’ll be mad?” He’s stuttering over his words, and Jason finally takes pity. Says, “Chill out, I don’t care.”

He sits down, swings his legs over the edge of the building, leans back on his hands and looks up at the kid. “Your parents know you’re out here?”

He hesitates, then admits, “They’re out of town.”

“Oh,” Jason says. He gets it.

“Just for work,” the kid adds defensively. “They’ll be back.”

Jason digs around in his belt and offers the kid a granola bar. He hesitates then takes it. After another moment, he sits down too, away from the edge. Jason leans back on his hands and looks at him, appreciates his mask lets him study without coming off as creepy.

Kid’s scrawny, shivering in an overpriced jacket, can’t be older than 13, a giant ass camera hanging around his neck. He breaks the granola bar in half and offers the bigger one to Jason, who takes it.

“What’s your name?” Jason asks finally.

“Tim,” he says back. Glances up quickly, then back down. Back up again and blurts, “I’m glad you’re back. I wasn’t sure you would be.”

Jason doesn’t say me too or me neither, but he wants to. 

“You look familiar,” Jason says. “Have we saved you before or something? That why you president of the fan club?”

“No,” Tim says absently. “But I’ve been to some galas at Wayne Manor.”

There’s a pause where Tim’s eyes widen and Jason stiffens. Then Tim scrambles to his feet saying, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” and Jason leaps up and grabs his arm, demanding, “Who are you and what do you know?”

They both still and Tim draws in a deep breath. He lets it out and Jason notices he doesn’t look scared. Nervous, maybe, a little, but not scared. He says, “I figured it out. Who Batman is. A few years back. Well,” he backtracks, “I figured out who the first Robin was and then…everything fell into place.”

Jason doesn’t admit he’s a little impressed. He lets go of Tim, sure he isn’t a threat and won’t run. Asks, still a little suspicious, “How’d you do that?”

Tim gets this little half-smile on his face and he says, “The quadruple somersault.”

“Yeah?” Jason asks. “How’d you make the connection?”

“I watched two of the only three people who could do it die,” Tim says.

Jason does some quick mental math and says, “No way in hell you remember that.”

Tim huffs. “Well, I do,” he snaps. “It was one of the best days of my life. I was with my parents and they managed to let me meet up with the Flying Graysons before the show. They took a picture with me. I didn’t forget.”

They’re quiet for a long moment. The moon is almost directly overhead, bright and full.

“Are you going to tell him?” Tim asks finally. He slides a glance sideways at Jason, who doesn’t know if he means Bruce or Dick.

Jason shakes his head. “Not yet, at least.”

“I should go home,” Tim says, but he’s looking down, scuffing his toe across the roof, so Jason says, “Yeah, me too.”

They start to part ways, but Tim turn again. “I really am glad you’re back,” he tells Jason. “He was…different without you. It was kinda scary. Batman needs Robin.”

********

Jason can’t get that out of his head. “He was different…it was kinda scary.” He turns the words around in his head over and over again, until he can’t sleep, thinking about it.

He asks Alfred about it, after two days of thinking. Sidles up to him while he’s making sandwiches and soup for lunch. Bruce has to go in for a WE Board meeting (“On a Saturday?” Jason asked horrified and Bruce shrugged. “Guess it’s important. And I maybe missed it on Wednesday.” He winked and was gone. )

He takes the knife without a word and starts to cut the sandwiches so Alfred can stir the soup. Tomato basil.

“How was Bruce,” he asks abruptly, keeping his eyes focused on the sandwiches, “when I was hurt?”

Jason hears the spoon stop stirring, can feel Alfred still next to him. A moment later, the spoon picks up again, slowly. It’s another moment before Alfred clears his throat and says, “He took it very hard. We all did.”

“Oh,” Jason says. He keeps looking at the sandwiches even though he’s finished cutting them. He looks up when he feels Alfred’s hand on his shoulder.

Alfred is looking at him with fondness and sadness and something else Jason doesn’t know what to call but it fills him up so much he feels tears pricking at his eyes. Alfred cups his face and his hands are warm and wrinkled and soft despite all the labor he’s put into this house over the decades. He says, his voice low with purpose, “You are very dear to him. To me. To Master Richard. I hope you know that.”

Jason nods and Alfred lets his hand drop. Gives Jason’s shoulder a pat and says briskly, “Now let’s see about lunch.”

He doesn’t ask Dick because he thinks Alfred has sugarcoated or lied to him. It’s only that, he has said very little and he loves Bruce differently than Jason does, the same way he loves Jason—they’re not blind spots, per se, but there’s some sense of duty, some sense of needing to protect.

Dick is quiet for a long time when Jason asks over the phone. Jason starts to get antsy, wishing he had gone in person to see Dick, to ask. Finally, Dick answers, almost reluctantly, “He was furious. I’ve never seen him like that before. I thought—for sure, I thought he’d—you know.”

Jason does know, but it makes  _ him  _ furious Dick won’t even say the Joker’s name, won’t say what Bruce wouldn’t do.

“He would have deserved it,” Jason says savagely and is surprised out of his anger when Dick agrees, quietly, “Yeah. He would have.”

There’s a long pause and then Dick adds, “But it wasn’t just him. B was…it was to everybody. A petty thief same as the Big Bads. It was like—it was like he really did. Lose you. And I didn’t—I wasn’t enough, then.”

“Oh,” Jason says.

********

Jason doesn’t see Tim again for a while, worries he scared the kid off. He stays true to word, doesn’t tell Dick or Bruce, but he does keep an eye out for him.

When he doesn’t see him as Robin, Jason starts looking for Tim in school. He isn’t actually sure they go to the same one, it can’t hurt to keep an eye out. He doesn’t see him around the high school classes, and, remembering how tiny the kid is, Jason slips into Gotham Academy’s lower school during lunch and spots him right away.

Tim flushes when he notices Jason zero in on him, but he keeps walking with his nerd friend, determinedly ignoring Jason. Jason doesn’t like being ignored. He saunters over and slings an arm around the kid’s shoulder.

Tim’s flush deepens, but he says, almost valiantly, “Uh, hi?” He waves his friend off when he looks concerned and then shoves his hands in his pocket, like he’s trying to make his tiny self even smaller. “Can I help you?”

“Just haven’t seen ya around in a while,” Jason says. He tugs Tim outside with him and adds, “Let’s have lunch.”

********

“Why are you spending so much time with the Drake boy?” Bruce asks one night. They’re in the Cave, still in tuxes from some charity thing Bruce has thrown. Alfred will be mad if he knows, but he’s upstairs, cleaning.

Jason shrugs. “Just a friend. He goes to my school. ‘Sides, everyone else at those things is boring.”

“Not me,” Bruce says and Jason yawns extravagantly. “Especially you.”

********

He wants to tell Dick first about Tim because it’s Dick who helped Tim figure it all out. When he calls to see if he can come up for a weekend visit, though, Dick is distracted, sounds off. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Jason finally demands and Dick sighs. Says, “I’m leaving the Titans. I guess I’m moving back to Gotham for a bit.”

It’s good timing, Jason thinks, and immediately feels guilty. He tries not to feel giddy about Dick being back. Tries not to worry about Nightwing, who’s lost teammates and just sounds  _ tired  _ lately. 

“To the Manor?” he asks and Dick says, “God no. At least, not permanently. I just…need some time.”

“I have a secret to tell you,” Jason says. “When you get back.”

“I don’t know if I like the sounds of that,” Dick says and actually laughs.

******** 

Dick takes to Tim right away and Jason tries to squash down any jealousy boiling up in him. It’s not Tim’s fault they’ve come into Dick’s life at different places. 

********

Bruce finds out with Dick and Jason both playing mediator, but he seems more impressed than angry, a concerned furrow etching into his brow. 

“His parents aren’t home a lot,” Jason tells him, as if Bruce hasn’t noticed the kid sitting in his kitchen, doing homework and eating Alfred’s cookies on a near-daily basis. 

********

He watches Tim spar and they way he pores over notes Bruce leaves for him when Batman and Robin go out, and he calls Dick the next day. Asks, “How did you know?”

He’s woken Dick up and all he gets is a muffled, “Whu?”

“How did you know?” He repeats, more insistently. “How did you know when it was time to move on?”

“From what?” Dick asks and Jason lets out a frustrated sigh.

“From Robin, asshole,” he snaps. “How did you know?”

“Oh,” Dick is quiet for a minute. Then, he says, “I think if you’re asking, you already know.”

********

Jason was fifteen when he almost died. He was fifteen when he took back Robin, sixteen when he and Bruce started figuring each other out again. 

Jason is seventeen today, poised on the edge of growing up. He’s seventeen and he is giving Robin away. Tim’s hands tremble when he takes the proffered uniform. 

“But it’s  _ your  _ birthday,” he blurts, and then, “Are you  _ sure _ ?” 

Jason glances at Bruce, suddenly glad he’s run it by him the night before instead of letting it be a surprise. Bruce doesn’t smile exactly, but there’s something encouraging in his eyes, reassuring, and Jason says, “Sure I’m sure. I’ve been thinking about it for a while. You’re ready.”  _ I’m ready _ .

“What will you do next?” Tim asks, voice softer, almost reverent as he gathers the Robin uniform close to himself.

Jason shrugs, but he’s grinning. “I have a few ideas.”

He does, too, scribbled down, sketched in a notebook. Because he is seventeen and he did not die and the world is open before him and he is ready for the world. 


End file.
